


Captain Booty

by slaughtermom



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, Sex, if you want plot go somewhere else cause this ain't it, shameless smut tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 01:53:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17909777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slaughtermom/pseuds/slaughtermom
Summary: I'm falling back in love with one of my favorite Dragon Age ships. Entry for Femslash February





	Captain Booty

The hat was a jaunty thing, all velvet and feather plumes. It hung like a flag on the bedpost, stark in contrast to the sensible tans and whites of the room. Aveline thought it idiotic… especially in Isabela’s (and she hesitated to call it that) line of work. A target is what it made her and unlike the fine Kirkwall steel the guard captain wore, one that did little to turn aside arrows.

“Are you jealous Big Girl?” Grin wide like a Cheshire cat, Isabela stretched on tangled sheets, comfortable in her nudity. “Admiral outranks captain and I have an armada to back it up.” She laughed. “And the big hat.”  

Aveline beetled her brows, a caustic reply about overcompensating at the end of her tongue. It would have been an easy banter. Rudeness and fondness mingled in the argument that lasted until the pirate left with the tide. They’d been perfecting it for years.

She bit it back, focusing instead on new lines and scars that dotted skin she’d come to know so well. A callused finger, rough with blunted nail, traced a line up the outside of Isabela’s thigh. Raised and shiny pink, it couldn’t have been more than a few months old. They talked about it once, Isabela’s lack of pants. A sound reasoning with armor being a good way to drown and dirty clothes pushed into a wound with a blade, a better way to die of sepsis.

“If you stayed on dry land, you could wear armor.”

“If I stayed on dry land, you’d arrest me.”

Aveline snorted. “Credit where credit is due. I haven’t arrested you in a decade. Void knows you’ve broken laws since then.”

“Not in Kirkwall and none that you can prove.” Isabela closed her eyes, sighing as Aveline let her hand wander higher. “Are you teasing?”

Aveline tapped her finger against Isabela’s hip considering if they had time to go again before the Viscount’s Keep and the tide made them go separate ways. They didn’t, not really and they both knew it. Still… Knees popped as she knelt beside the bed, strong arms jerking the bedclothes to bring Isabela closer.

“Are you telling me to stop?”

Pupils wider than the first light of day warranted, Isabela settled her hands in Aveline’s hair. Fingers worming into red just starting to show the white of age. “Don’t you dare.”

It was cliché to say Isabela tasted of the sea. She certainly smelled of it. Sunshine and salt and a smell uniquely her own. Aveline was surrounded by it. The press of thighs into her shoulders. The feel of hands tugging at her hair. It was an addicting. Clit pressed to the top of her tongue, the shakes that were a precursor to that power moment that jellied thighs and turned the self-proclaimed Admiral into a mess of woman.

“Oh fuck.” Isabela grunted, body seizing in the contortion of her orgasm.

Aveline pushed herself up, wincing slightly. She was getting too old to subject her knees to a stone floor. Bad enough they ached in the evenings, she didn’t need to start the day in pain as well.

Isabela’s hands were needy as they reached for her or perhaps that was her own, spreading the wetness left by her mouth. Thumb making a harder friction than tongue. Two fingers, one slightly twisted from a badly set break making the come hither gesture where it did most good. It was done with the same relentlessness Aveline put into keeping Kirkwall safe. Tireless. A powerful addicting feeling.

Twice and then twice more until Isabela pushed her hand away. “Too sensitive.”

Aveline rolled on her back, a low laughter sitting in her chest. Proud in prowess wasn’t something she would normally think about, let alone claim the feeling, but this was different. It was Isabela. A rivalry turned friendship turned… well turned.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself Big Girl. I plan on paying you back for this.”

She chuckled. “It’ll have to be an IOU. Some of us have work to do, Pirate.”

Isabela thought for a moment. “I’m work.”

The pause was pregnant with tension. A cusp of one of them admitting to the other that this… whatever it was, wasn’t enough. It passed with a forced airiness.

“You’re also going to miss tide if you don’t put on your ridiculous hat and get out of my city.”

“I’ll bring you one next time, with even more feathers. Orlesian feathers.”

“I’ll burn it.” Aveline threatened.

“You’ll love it.”


End file.
